Kieran Turner's photos with the keyword: ruins

An old jute factory site in Dundee. Nigel, an old friend from Sussex Uni, had moved there for a year at the University. To Dundee, that is. He wasn't living in the factory ;)

Built in sixteen-oatcake, and used nae maer.

The Royal Garrison Church of St. George, Grand Depot Road, Woolwich. What a great set of names to conjour with! This ruin was destroyed by a V1 flying bomb during the second world war, but it remains consecrated and is used for memorial services. Driving past it, it looks absolutely stunning — I genuinely thought it might be a shored-up Roman ruin. The main wall behind the altar has an elaborate mosaic of a cavalry rider-cum-St. George which really could come from just about any classical era.

The Royal Garrison Church of St. George, Grand Depot Road, Woolwich. What a great set of names to conjour with! This ruin was destroyed by a V1 flying bomb during the second world war, but it remains consecrated and is used for memorial services. Driving past it, it looks absolutely stunning — I genuinely thought it might be a shored-up Roman ruin. The main wall behind the altar has an elaborate mosaic of a cavalry rider-cum-St. George which really could come from just about any classical era.

The Royal Garrison Church of St. George, Grand Depot Road, Woolwich. What a great set of names to conjour with! This ruin was destroyed by a V1 flying bomb during the second world war, but it remains consecrated and is used for memorial services. Driving past it, it looks absolutely stunning — I genuinely thought it might be a shored-up Roman ruin. The main wall behind the altar has an elaborate mosaic of a cavalry rider-cum-St. George which really could come from just about any classical era.

The Royal Garrison Church of St. George, Grand Depot Road, Woolwich. What a great set of names to conjour with! This ruin was destroyed by a V1 flying bomb during the second world war, but it remains consecrated and is used for memorial services. Driving past it, it looks absolutely stunning — I genuinely thought it might be a shored-up Roman ruin. The main wall behind the altar has an elaborate mosaic of a cavalry rider-cum-St. George which really could come from just about any classical era.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

Finally, a picture where this traditional blue chemicals effect actually works.